


Long Live The King

by EnbyEntity



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Also I added Javid, Angst, Blind Characters, Canon Disabled Character, Deaf Characters - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Genderfluid Character, Hurt/Comfort, I over use commas, I write a lot of angst, Implied Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Leo writes angst, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Promise, descriptions of violence, go easy on me I’m new, haha - Freeform, high levels of angst, how does one tag?, implied self harm, its just background but I will do proper javid at some point in my modern AU, jatherine, sprace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26649589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnbyEntity/pseuds/EnbyEntity
Summary: “Spot Conlon, huh? Well, Long Live The King.”|~|~||~|~|Racetrack Higgins has everything he needs, and more. Good friends, and someone who might be slightly more than a friend.Until one stormy night, when everything he knows might just come crumbling down.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, Others that are just OC’s, Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, crutchie/original character
Comments: 52
Kudos: 39





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic up here, so beware....

Down in Brooklyn, you’ll turn a corner right by sheepshead, and head down the alleyway. Past the small abandoned bakery and around the fire escape, and twisting through the zig-zagging, thundering staircase. Up the ladder, usually as quick as you can, then onto the roof. There you’ll find a small key, one slipped between the cracks of the roof. You head back down the fire escape and sprint down another forgotten alleyway, before you’ve arrived at your destination.

The young boy knocked on the door, two short knocks and one rat-a-tat-tat then two more short knocks. The door swung open and he stepped inside.

As he stepped inside the slightly warmer room, he removed his scarf and laid it over the small wooden chair that acted as a coat hanger. Or in this instance, a scarf hanger.

He was greeted with small waves and cold stares, so just the usual. That was fine. He didn’t need their friendship anyway. The Rabbit trusted him. That was all the confirmation he needed. The Rabbit was all he needed. And she needed him.

He strided over to the closest person, who happened to be a girl with short fluffy hair. She glanced at him when he approached her, looking unamused.

‘What do you want.’ She shrugged her arms, palms out flat, then pointed to him, and flicked her index finger at him. 

He bit his lip, rocking back and forth on his heels. ‘Where’s The Rabbit.’ He shrugged, hands palm down, then did the sign for The Rabbit. A tight fist, then flick two fingers up like a salute.

The girl didn’t respond properly, just pointed to the door leading to the next room.

The boy thanked her by bowing his head slightly at her. She just continued glaring and her gaze followed the boy while he opened the door.

The boy stepped into The Rabbit’s room, closing the door behind him. The room was always in pitch black, without any means of escape except for the door. No one knew why The Rabbit preferred the dark, but no one had ever seen her face. Some of the other kids speculated that she’d been horribly disfigured as a child, leading her down this path. Other rumours spoke a scar slicing through her eye, though that’s all they were. Silly school girl rumours. Just gossip.

“What brings you here.” The Rabbit’s voice cut through the air like a sharp knife on a crisp August day.

“I have information. The information you wanted?” He told her, stepping foreword into more darkness. He hated it at first, never knowing where The Rabbit was, but he got used to it. They all did.

“Go ahead.” Her voice is chilling, sending shivers down his spine like a creepy spider sliding under his shirt.

“Spot Conlon. We need Spot Conlon.” He said firmly, slightly louder than needed.

There’s a silence, and the boy is tempted to run away as fast as he can. Run away from this sick twisted trap he’d fallen into and get away as fast as he can.

“Spot Conlon, huh?” She repeated slowly. There’s a sudden hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumps out of his skin with fear.

“Well then, Long Live The King.”


	2. Chapter 1

“So, how long do you think this storms gonna last?” Mush asked, leaning back against the wall. The sky punctuated his question with a loud clap of thunder, seemingly shaking the Manhattan Lodging House.

Race raised his eyebrows at that. “All through the night, but It’ll clear up by the morning. Wanna bet?” He said, perking up at the mention at a bet.

Davey sighed from where he was reading his book from the other side of the room. “You don’t have any money Race. Are you really in the position to be making bets?” He questioned, though they all knew the answer.

Mush chuckled under his breath, like Davey made a somewhat funny joke. “Since when has money stopped Race from placing bets, huh?” Davey didn’t answer, just turning back to his book.

The rest of the evening went in a similar manner; Race having a stupid idea, Davey shooting it down, Mush coming in with some kind of witty comeback. They bantered back and forth, thoroughly disappointing Davey and killing whatever hope he had for them.

Jack had put all the little kids to bed a while ago, and Davey had left with his books, telling them all that he had homework to do, and he had to get back for Les. Slowly, other Newsies had gravitated towards bed, and Jack had gone up to his penthouse. Now it was only Race and Mush, though Mush was just about ready to fall asleep, even if he was sitting in cold wooden floor.

Mush frowned at Race, just remembering something. “Ain’t Spot supposed to be coming over tonight? Something about a meeting with Jack and whatnot?” He asked.

Race’s stomach dropped in his chest slightly and he gulped back the lump in his throat. “He was. He said he would be here.” He managed to get out.

Mush raised one eyebrow. “Well, I’m heading up to bed. And if Spot flaked out, I’ll kick him, ‘Kay?” With that brotherly sentiment, Mush clambered up the stairs.

Race decided to wait out for Spot, but just for a couple of minutes. Just a couple minutes slowly morphed into a whole hour that Race was sat there, clinging to false hope that Spot had just gotten held back. Held back by another Newsie, and he was coming. Just like he’d promised Race. Because Race needed to tell Spot something. And tonight it was going to happen. But now Spot wasn’t showing up.

The hour twisted into two hours, then three, and Race was positively exhausted. His eyes kept half closing before he’d shoot up and force himself to stay awake. 

He was just about to fall asleep when there was a thud and a loud curse, something that even Race had the decency to not say around the younger kids. He opened one eye, scanning around the room. His eyes landed on the figure of Crutchie, who had been coming down the steps and had tripped on the last one.

“Hey Racer.” Crutchie said awkwardly, pushing himself off the floor with very little dignity. “What are you doing up?” He asked, regaining his balance.

Race crossed his arms. “I could ask you the same thing.” He pointed out.

Crutchie huffed, blowing a stray lock of dirty blonde out of his face. “I was meeting someone, actually. Well, I was going to, but you’re kind of stopping me.” He tried to scoot around Race, but was blocked by the Italian boy with a cheeky smirk.

“Are you meeting up with a girl? Are you going on a date with a girl?”  
Race asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Crutchie looked confused to a few seconds, before his eyes widened. “A girl? Oh yes! A girl! A very pretty girl, who I happen to be going on a date with!” He stumbled over his words, praying Race didn’t find any of this suspicious.

But Race narrowed his eyes at Crutchie. “At this hour? It’s the middle of the night, and you’re going out for a date with a girl. Why now?” He asked.

“Because it’s the only time Jack wouldn’t notice me sneaking out, and question me to death!” Crutchie answered, sounding exasperated. “Now may I please get past you.” 

Race watched with a curious expression as Crutchie walked out of the lodging house. Crutchie has a girl. Sure, it Race knew it would probably happen eventually, but not yet. Now Crutchie’s growing up, and Race is getting some serious whiplash.

Race waits for another fourth five minutes, but he’s still not keeping count, and he’d given up on Spot Conlon. Screw Spot Conlon, the little bastard. Who needed some king of Brooklyn who acted like he was better than everyone else? Race didn’t. Race didn’t need Spot Conlon.

But you could only lie to yourself for so long. But Race wasn’t ready for that conversation. Race was happy to kid himself for this long and pretend he was fine.

Until the Someone was knocking on the door and screaming his name as loud as they could, before tumbling inside with an unconscious figure in their arms.

Yeah, this was all going great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wassup bitches  
> It’s me, the local angst supplier  
> If all my characters are unhealthily clingy, it’s just me self-projecting  
> Haha


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are explained and our boys get up to some life saving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out, but writers block decided to possess me like the demon it is. Anywho, I got this out somehow haha

Race took a few moments to process what was going on as three people entered the lodging house in a flurry of noise and movement.

There was Crutchie, looking panicked and screaming Race’s name.

Oh.

There was a boy, about Crutchie’s age, that Race didn’t recognise. He was carrying the final figure.

Oh.

And the third figure was an unconscious Spot Conlon. Who was bleeding. And unconscious.

Oh.

There was a momentary silence as Race’s brain connected the dots, then everything went loud again. Crutchie was screaming, the random boy was rambling, and Race couldn’t get a coherent sentence out his mouth.

“Racetrack Higgins!” Crutchie snapped, snapping Race out of his trance. “Clear off one of the beds now, and see if we have any bandages. We’ll need them.” He ordered. Race rushed into the washroom and scanned for bandages, but he found none. He dashed back to where Crutchie and the boy were waiting, and cleared off his bed.

“There aren’t any bandages?” Crutchie said when Race told him. “Fine them, we’ll do without them. Ed, get Spots shirt off, but gently. Race, get your shirt off, and your vest. There’s a pocket knife under Jojo’s bed, use it to slice up your shirt to make bandages.” He ordered.

Race was glad that Crutchie was taking charge, because he sure wasn’t about to. All Race wanted to do was retreat into a corner and sit there in silenced shock. But he just got to cutting up his shirt with Jojo’s pocket knife. He didn’t even stop to think about how Crutchie knew where Jojo’s pocket knife was, and that was a story for some other time.

Ed, as Crutchie has introduced him, let out a long hiss. “He’s bleeding. On his shoulder and abdomen. Plus, his arm looks really bad.” He said. Race’s head snapped up and he shot over to the bed like a bullet.

True to Ed’s word, there was a gentle trickle of blood coming from Spots shoulder, and a more urgent gushing from his abdomen. Race scrambled to grab his makeshift bandages and vest while Crutchie cursed under his breath.

“Can I have those?” Ed asked, gesturing for Race’s shirt and vest. Race gave them to him, nodding vigorously. Ed proceeded to hold the vest tightly against Spot’s main wound and wrap shirt slices around it, stopping the bleeding for now. He also wrapped more shirt strips around his shoulder, though the angle is awkward and hard to work with.

Ed’s look was one of intense concentration, which was something Race had always lacked. His eyes flittered around frantically, not even bothering to conceal his worried he was anymore.

“We’ll need to stitch both wounds up, but I’ve stopped the bleeding for now. Next step is his arm, which isn’t looking good.” That’s an understatement. There’s bruises covering the entire limb, not to mention the jarring angle that it was set at. It was sickening, and Race felt his stomach swirling around, but he couldn’t seem to look away.

Crutchie was about to say something, but was cut off by a loud thundering down the stairs. Race only knew one of them who descended the stairs with so little grace, and that was saying something.

Jack froze in position upon seeing the predicament they were in. “What is going on, who are you,” He pointed to Ed. “And what is Spot Conlon doing here?”

“No time for explanations. We need two pieces of wood, preferably thin and flat, and more makeshift bandages.” Ed commanded. Race jumped back into work, ripping apart his only good shirt with Jojo’s pocket knife. Oh well, he’d figure out what do without a proper shirt later. He had bigger problems currently. Like the king of Brooklyn bleeding out on his bed.

Jack frowned at Ed, but collected the firewood. It was lucky they had it, but apparently it was supposed to get cold this year, and they could all do with some more heating, which might stop more Newsies from getting sick, allowing them to sell more. It made sense somehow.

Jack dashed back in with the two planks of wood. Ed nodded, and resumed his role of keeping them all under control, and somehow maintaining order. Race had to give it to him, he was doing a pretty good job, especially since he’d never met the Newsies before.

“Great. Those’ll do perfectly. Now,” He gestured to Jack, “He’ll hold the wood pieces across Spot’s arm, Charlie’ll help wrap the bandages,” He looked at Race, “You’ll hold Spot still and I’ll realign the bones, okay?” 

Race nodded mutely and sat by Spot’s head, prepared to place firm hands on Spot to stop him from wriggling around too much.

Ed took a deep breath in. “Let’s go then.” Everyone nodded, their looks varying from determined for shaken. 

Ed then began twisting Spot’s arm, trying to get it to lay in a normal position, like arms usually did.

Complications arises when Spot’s eyes cracked open and he let out a whine, trying to shove away from Ed. Race stopped Spot, but the Brooklyn boy continued to wriggle as he got more and more agitated. It got to the point where Race was struggling against Spot’s struggling and Ed was having difficulty doing anything.

“Can’t we knock him out? Wouldn’t that just save us the trouble, and help him?” Crutchie suggested. Race noticed that he’d shuffled suspiciously closed to Ed during all this, but thought nothing off it. Crutchie had a girl he was supposed to go on a supposed date with anyway.

Ed shook his head. “Normally the doctors would use some sort of medicine to help, but we’ve got none of that. Just have to push through it.”

“That reminds me,” Jack began, “How did this happen?” He questioned, tilting his head to one side.

Crutchie glanced up from where he was leaning his head on Ed’s shoulder. “We don’t know. We were just out, then we wandered into this alley and Spot was lying there, just like this. We didn’t know what else to do, so we brought him here. Thought it was the best option.” He shrugged lamely.

Race frowned. “I thought you were going out with a girl? What happened?” He asked before he had the chance to think his words over. That happened a lot. Far too often.

Crutchie’s cheeks blushed bright red and he grumbled something indecipherable under his breath. “Can we get back to the problem at hand? Please?”

Race nodded, and repositioned his hands on Spot, who had fell asleep, or unconscious, again. Luckily.

Ed finished up wrapping the makeshift bandages around the pieces of wood which, Race just realised, were acting as a splint for the broken limb. Smart thinking.

Jack leaned against the wall. “That was some hell of a night.” He announced, looking exhausted now that the adrenaline that came with saving the king of Brooklyn weared off. Race was inclined to agree with Jack. It had been a long night.

And it was far from over.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angst happens, and then some fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wassup it’s your demon, it’s me. It’s me, I’m the demon.  
> I’m reading sad Sprace fanfic and one one of them will probably die soon so yay

It was calm at first. Ed finished up by stitching Spot’s two wounds up. Race had to look away , as he’d always been squeamish even thinking about that type of thing. So Race just turned his head the other way, though he still sat by Spot’s head.

Something churned in Race’s stomach, something that spread up to his eye and made them burn with unshed tears. Maybe it was worry. Maybe he was just exhausted, but Race felt like crying. Of course, he didn’t because there were four people, if you counted Spot, and crying in front of four people was too much. 

Crying in front of one person was also too much, but we don’t talk about that.

Ed sat up and stretched his arms. “All done.” He gave everyone a wary smile. “Spot here should be all okay, hopefully anyway.”

Everyone sighed with relief, but then Jack frowned. “I have a couple questions now we’re not popping bones back into place.” He raised his eyebrow at Ed and Crutchie, who were suspiciously hugging. “Where did you come from, and how do you know so much medical whatnot?” He asked bluntly.

Ed shuffled awkwardly in his seat on the edge of the bed. “My father’s a Doctor, and I got a lot of practice bandaging up kids in my block.” He explained. “And I just happened to bang into Charlie, honestly. Then we found Spot.” He gestured to Spot.

Race narrowed his eyes. “But Crutchie was going on a date with a girl, right? He told me.”

Crutchie replied quickly. “I was. Elizabeth. But she’s sick. Sadly. Ed is her brother. Obviously.” He noticed Jack and Race’s strange looks and sighed. “I was going on a date with Elizabeth, right? Then I bump into Ed and he tells me that she’s sick. So I’m about to walk back, but it starts raining. Ed offers to help me find shelter, so we’re walking to some place he knows, when I trip over something and we find Spot. Does that answer your question?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

It didn’t, Race would think later. There were flaws in Crutchie’s lie, like how long it had actually taken him, and the fact that it had been raining all afternoon, and hadn’t started suddenly. But Race was too tired to pick apart all of that. So he let it slide by.

“So, what do you all do here?” Ed asked curiously, subtly rubbing his thumb over Crutchie’s knuckles. It was a sweet gesture, and completely hidden from anyone, which satisfied Crutchie. “I mean, do you work or something?”

Jack was about to answer, explain all about selling papers and whatnot, when there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by yelling.

What comes next is a flurry of noise and panic that smells like Deja Vu for Race. Too familiar, and for a second he almost think it’s Spot again, being dragged through the doorway. But it’s Lester.

No one really knew Lester for a while. Until Jay got up one day and decided to sell by the Brooklyn bridge, because that’s just what Jay does. Then something happened between Jay and Lester, something that really Jack knows about, and then Lester came by the Manhattan Lodging House a lot more often.

Now Lester was unconscious and being dragged into the lodging house by two other Brooklyn Newsies drenched in blood. Hooray. Race just glad that Jay wasn’t here currently, because they’d be screaming and panicking.

Race zoned out for a few seconds, letting the screams tune out into a loud buzz in the back of his head. He was still sitting on the bed, right by Spot’s head. Wasn’t one nearly fatal accident enough for one night? Apparently not.

“This isn’t fatal, don’t worry.” Ed answered. Race realised he’d said the last part out loud and blushed bright red. “He just has a fever and a couple cuts. The two girls from Brooklyn are the same. Few gashes and bruises. Nothing I can’t fix.” That was a relief. 

Race craned his neck to glance at the two girls, recognising them from the few times he went over to Brooklyn. Beth and Nought. They were pretty nice, but Race wasn’t close to them. Close like he was to Spot.

The room seemed to close in on Race like a glass box, with his every flaw on display as people gawked. No one was watching, they were all gathered around Beth and Nought and Lester but Race needed an escape.

“I’m taking a walk.” He murmured, and barged out the lodging house.

Once everything had calmed down, Ed and Crutchie curled up around each other on a bunk bed tucked in the corner. 

Ed ran a lazy hand through Crutchie’s straw blonde hair, smiling softly. “A girl, huh? You were going on a date with a girl?” He questioned with a chuckle.

Crutchie gave Ed a look. “Technically, you were a girl when I asked you out on said date. I’m not wrong. And anyway, I don’t ready to tell them all yet.” He pointed out.

Ed sighed. “I know. But it’s nice here, cuddled up here with you and such.” He said, holding Crutchie to his chest.

Crutchie laughed to himself and nestled his head into Ed’s chest. “I agree. And we’re pretty hidden, so I’m actually relaxed for once.” There was a comfortable silence. “You did amazing back there.”

Ed rolled his eyes fondly. “It was nothing.”

“It was not nothing. You haven’t seen that much blood since, what, 1899?” Crutchie responded, his tone light and joking.

“That’s only been one year Charlie. And nearly all of that blood was yours.” Ed retorted.

“How romantic.” Crutchie teased, kissing Ed’s cheek.

“How romantic indeed.” Ed agreed and kissed Crutchie softly.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race goes on a walk, and ends up being partially kidnapped. Plus, he gets some threats for free! Hooray!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a crush and I don’t know what to do pls help me I’m dying here   
> Thank you, that’s all :)

Race needed space, and fresh air. And Spot. But only two of those things were attainable currently. So he took a walk.

It was only supposed to be a quick walk, but when Race started walking he got frustrated and zoned out and soon he was marching across the Brooklyn bridge like the madman he was. And he continued being frustrated and he accidentally ended up by the sheepshead.

Race had sold by the sheepshead since he’d started as a Manhattan Newsie. He was the only Manhattan Newsie who was allowed to seek in Brooklyn, and he held that honour with pride. He was only Manhattan Newsie that Spot allowed over the bridge, and to say that didn’t bring small flutters to his chest would be a big fat lie.

To say that Spot didn’t bring didn’t bring small flutters to his chest could be a big fat lie.

To say that Spot didn’t make him smile would be a big fat lie.

To say that Race didn’t want to press his lips against Spot’s would be a big fat lie.

But Race was very good at lying.

So he was walking along, minding his own damn business till an arm tugged on him and pulled him into the alley.

Race stared to complain loudly, but the same someone shushed him sharply. “Be quiet or else, okay? Now if you shut your trap and don’t run away, I might just be able to be gentle with you.” The voice was clearly snarling, and sounded gravely in Race’s ears. The person looked the way their voice sounded, mean and scary. Dark scowling eyes and hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Race wasn’t sure if they were male or female, so he thought back to what Jay had told them all. They. Right.

Race didn’t even realise he was being dragged down the alley, but when he did he began to thrash around and punch the stranger, who tightened their grip on him.

“Listen up buddy.” They just about yelled in a harsh whisper. “Stop that right this second, or else. You know what, if you don’t stop punching me I might just have to call my backup to find your little friends, the other Newsies, okay?” 

Race wasn’t sure if they were joking, but he certainly didn’t want to mess with those pitch black eyes, so he mutely nodded and continued allowing himself to be dragged down the alleyway.

They went around the abandoned bakery and around the fire escape and thundered up the stairs and grabbed the key and scambered back down and into the alley and stopped by the door. The stranger that had kidnapped Race- though could it be considered kidnapping if you just went along with it- knocked on the door in some strange pattern that Race didn’t care enough about to remember.

Then they stepped inside. 

It was dark, and Race blinked a couple times to adjust properly, and a few kids sat solemnly around two tiny tables. It was dead silent; you could hear every quiet breath, and Race was scared to do anything to disturb the silence.

The Race-napping stranger walked up to one girl and made a variety of hand gestures that Race couldn’t understand in the slightest. They then dragged him inside a pitch black room.

Race didn’t like the dark. Well, that was an understatement, but the dark scared him, to sum it all up. So he panicked. Not a massive panic, he hadn’t had one of those in a while, but his breathing did shallow and his shoulders did shake ever so slightly.

“Don’t worry.” A voice from behind him came. For a second, Race thought it was the same person from before, but this voice was softer and airier. It drifted behind him, almost calming him.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Not at all.” The voice continued. “Actually, in fact, that’s the last thing on my to do list. I will never want to physically hurt you Race. Hurt the others, well, that’s a whole other story.” The voice let out a chuckle.

Race’s blood ran cold. Hurt the others. Hurt the others. Hurt his friends and Spot. Spot. This person hurt Spot. In a fit of rage, he lunged behind him, just wanting to hurt someone. Whoever that someone may be.

The voice laughed. “Missed me.” He lunged again. More laughter. “Missed me again. Now shut up and listen Antonio Higgins.” Race complied and fell silent. Again, he wasn’t keen to mess with scary voices.

“I know what you know. I know that you know that I did that. Spot Conlon all banged up. I did that. Though, I shouldn’t take all the credit. My kids helped. They’re good kids y’know. Most of them can’t hear that well, or hear at all. Still, they’re pretty good at breaking a couple bones.” There was a pause and some shuffling. “I should introduce myself, huh?”

“I’m Rabbit. Just Rabbit. Nothing less, nothing more. Rabbit, the new leader of Brooklyn.” Race growled at that. “And the leader of my kids, though we don’t have a solid name figured out yet. And you know what Antonio, Im in charge here. This, you’re on my territory. Brooklyn and this housing. All my territory. You can still sell on sheepshead, but you keep your head down and don’t mess with anyone, okay?”

Race nodded feverishly, not trusting himself to speak. It was strange how the voice that had once made him relax in the darkness made his tense up and shivers trickle down his spine like caterpillars. It made his shoulders tense and every nerve in his body screamed for him to run away but he couldn’t. He was frozen in place like those carved statues Jack sometimes talked about. Frozen like a statue.

The Rabbit spoke again. “Good job. Do what I ask, and I might just spare your friends. Meet up with Skitter right where you found them this time, and bring some money with you, it’d really help out. Now run along!” Race complied and scampered out of the pitch black room and burst into the light.

The other kids gave him the stink eye as he passed, but he couldn’t care less. He needed to get out of here and back to Manhattan.

So he ran back home, carrying the weight of answers to questions he never asked on his shoulders.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds out more about what happened in Brooklyn, and Race comes back from his walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Javid will be minor background hints, not ever really properly stated.  
> Also me: Jack loves Davey. Jack misses Davey. Jack wants Davey. Jack needs Davey.
> 
> Haha-

Jack rubbed his eyes, exhaustion weighing down on him like answers for questions he never asked. It was late, but as always, he couldn’t sleep. Blame it on the excitement of the night, blame it on the fact that Jack was missing a certain someone in his arms. A certain someone who he wished was here right now but wasn’t because he was sleeping in his own house.

Jack wanted Davey.

But Davey wasn’t here.

So Jack couldn’t sleep.

Hooray.

Jack fiddled with his necktie, the red fabric feeling soft between his fingers. Jay had gotten it for him, though they never said where they got it. Oh well. Jack loved his necktie, and the way it perfectly clashed with his blue shirt. Davey also liked it.

And now he was thinking about Davey again. Like always. Davey lived rent free in Jack’s mind, every thought revolving around him like a carousel journey of something else entirely. Something else entirely.

But Jack didn’t mind at all.

Not at all.

“Hey, Les, look at me!” A voice from the corner demanded, and Jack shot up, thinking it was their Les and then his Davey would also be there.

But it was Lester. Just Lester. Not Davey. Shame.

And it was Beth talking. To Lester. “Look at me Les, okay? Look at me.” She commanded, and Lester obliged. Jack barely knew Beth, but he knew that she was a powerhouse not to be messed with. Ever. At all. Never. Don’t mess with Beth.

Jack walked over to the bed where Lester was laying and sat awkwardly on the edge of it. 

Lester glanced around, eyes glazed over and confused. “What’s going on? What happened? Beth? Jack?” He asked, voice growing more and more agitated with every word.

Beth placed a calm arm on Lester’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re at the Manhattan Lodging House. You have a bit of a fever, but we’re okay. So is Nought. She’s also okay.” She reassured him. “Now, do you remember what happened?”

Lester nodded silently, and Jack’s curiosity won him over. “What did happen?” He inquired, tilting his head to one side like a curious puppy.

Beth sighed and ran a hand through her curly red hair. “We got kicked out of Brooklyn. They chased us all the way over the bridge, never stopping, in the freezing cold rain. I thought- I thought they were gonna kill us, in all honesty.” She explained, voice surprisingly quiet as she recounted it all. “There was a revolt. Against Spot. Sure, people have tried to do it before, but he stomped them down before anything major happened. He- he wasn’t expecting this. And they got us all good. Real good.”

Jack was silent, eyes widened in slight horror. If even Spot Conlon could loose his job as king, then so could they all. Jack could loose. Smalls could loose. And that was a scary thought, knowing that the king of Brooklyn was yet another pawn; just made to be tossed around when others felt like it.

“Who did it?” He choked out, hand clenched in a fist by his side.

Beth shrugged with a self deprecating half-grin. “Dunno. Thing is, when your leader and brother is probably dead and you’re being chased out of your home town you don’t exactly stop to ask the enemies who they are.”

Jack chuckled bitterly. Didn’t he know all about that. And the brother probably being dead. Or sibling. Whatever. 

“I just can’t believe it.” Beth said softly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Spot’s always been immovable, untouchable. Now this happens.” She gestured to Spot, who was still soundly unconscious. “He’s banged up worse than I’ve seen anyone banged up. I hate it.” She laughed, trying to ignore the tears spiking up in her eyes.

Jack hated it as well, and he wasn’t even a Brooklyn Newsie.

“I dunno what happened to the other Newsies, but I just hope they’re okay.” Beth added, hugging her arms around her knees. She was about to say something else, but just shrugged a bit. “Oh well. At least we’re alive.”

To Jack at least, that seemed like setting the standard very, very, very low. Very low indeed. But oh well. At least they were alive.

Beth went back to gazing out the window, Lester went back to sleeping restlessly, Nought continued pacing outside the lodging house, and Jack kept missing Davey.

It was going to be a long night til morning.

Race marched into the Manhattan Lodging house, eyes out of focus. The only thing that kept him going was the action of putting one foot in front of the other and continued that until he was home. Home.

Home.

Home.

Home.

Was Race home?

Was he at home?

Had he found home?

He had called the lodging house home since he stepped foot there. Simple.

So when did home stop being the building and more about who was inside the home?

“Racer, you okay?” Jack asked, interrupting Race’s train wreck of a thought process. Jack’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern, and worry. He was worried about Race.

Race sighed and ran a tired hand through his mop of curls. “I-,” He paused for a second, trying to gather his words. “I dunno.” He answered in a small voice.

Jack led Race to one of the spare beds and sat him down. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Race had seen- well, heard- much worse than a ghost.

Jack frowned deeply. “Did something happen? Did someone hurt you- Should I hurt them back?” Jacks voice grew frantic and angrier, as he stood up quickly, ready to fight anyone who had laid a finger on Race.

“Jackie, sit down.” Race tugged Jack down by the scruff of his blue shirt. “I’m fine, honestly. No one hurt me, and you don’t need to hurt anyone. I promise.” This wasn’t something Jack could fix by going out and punching someone. This was something else entirely, something none of them were prepared for, not even Race. Something that would burn through them all, making tears tumble from their eyes as they screamed for help but no one heard them. No one could help them now.

Jack nodded, though he stayed reluctant to believe that Race was actually okay.

They sat in awkward silence, Race wriggling in his perch on the bed under Jack’s watchful eye, while Jack kept his mouth in a small frown. Neither of them could manage a smile.

Til there was a noise from the bed. Spots bed.

And they sprung into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Also, how would you describe my writing style?  
> I think it’s mainly run on sentences, and it’s structured quite like thoughts and whatnot-


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race finally confessed his feelings, though he doesn’t reveal the entire story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to write, all thanks to writers block. I worked on another fic, a personal one with my friend, till I burnt out on that 48 pages later. Then I came back to this and wrote this so kaboom.  
> Hope you enjoy some sappy boys loving each other-

Race was there first. He dashed beside Spot, his eyes desperate and searching for something. “Spottie? Spottie!” He exclaimed with relief upon seeing that Spot’s eyes were open, and his lips were parted slightly as he stared at Race with mild disbelief.

“Tony?” Spot whispered with furrowed eyebrows. “Why are you here?”

Race put his hand on Spot’s cheek. “Yeah, i’m right here. And I always will be.”

Jack walked out, mainly out of privacy for both of them, but also because he hated seeing Spot, someone who had always been as tough as could, looking weak. Jack knew weakness wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was jarring.

“What happened?” Spot questioned. He glanced around, looking slightly overwhelmed. “What happened to my arm? Why are Lester and Beth and Nought here? Tony, what happened?”

Race gave Spot’s hand a small squeeze. “A lot happened.” He answered simply. “Want a summary?” Spot nodded and Race took a deep breath.

“Well, yesterday, I think, it was late when Crutchie brought you in. You remember Crutchie, right? Anyway, he came in with this other guy, Ed. You were hurt pretty bad, but Ed patched you up. Then Beth and Nought came in carrying Lester.” Noticing Spot’s panicked look at the mention of his brother, Race added quickly, “He’s fine though. A bit of a fever though, but fine. Beth said that they all were chased out of Brooklyn. Some kids revolted and over-threw you.” Race decided not to mention his meeting with Rabbit. He knew he would’ve freaked out if someone was using him as leverage over his best friend on a normal day, let alone when he’d just woken up after being over thrown from his place as king.

Besides, Race didn’t want to think about Rabbit himself.

Spot exhaled, raising his eyebrows. “Wow. And it’s been what, one night?” 

Race glanced out the window at the morning sun just peeking out. Sunrise. He nodded. “Yeah. Just one night.” He couldn’t quite believe it himself. Just one night and it felt like his whole world had been turned upside down.

Spot narrowed his eyes at Race. “Tony, have you slept at all?”

Race snorted, waving his hand around as if to say ‘Does it matter?’ “I’m not the one that got beat up. How are you feeling?” He asked, locking eyes with Spot.

Spot chuckled bitterly, leaning his head back. “Like trash. Is that a valid answer?” There was a pause, then Spot smacked his forehead. “Last night, you were gonna tell me something.”

All the colour drained out of Race’s face. He wanted to do anything but that. He just wanted to curl up, pretend that everything was okay, fall asleep and maybe never talk about what they so desperately needed to talk about. He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He insisted.

“You were really upset when you asked to talk though.” Spot pointed out, giving Race a look. “You don’t have to tell me, but you can tell me anything.”

Race’s mind skittered back to Rabbit, and he felt guilty. He wasn’t lying exactly, but he just wasn’t telling Spot everything. But how did you tell someone about that? About the omnibus threat that you still didn’t understand yourself? Race sighed. “Fine then” He ran a hand through his curls, looking anywhere but Spot. “I’m not very good with-“

He was cut off with Spot surging forward, causing their lips to meet. All of the tension washed out of Race, and he let his hands fall limp against Spot. It was everything he had hoped for, and more. It was so much more. Race hadn’t kissed many boys before, just Albert and Finch as a dare, but this was proper kissing. This was kissing with love and actual adoration. And when they pulled away, they didn’t break into friendly laughter, but just stared at each other.

Spot is the first to speak up. “I’m guessing that’s what you were going on about. Unless I completely read the situation wrong.” 

Race shook his head and leaned his forehead against Spot’s. “That was brilliant.” He murmured under his breath.

Spot grinned breathlessly. “Yeah, brilliant.”

Maybe everything could be okay, Race thought, forgetting about the entire night. Maybe there’s a bit of light in all the dark.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie likes sunny days, and Race makes a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what disrupted my plan for updating this regularly?  
> Writers block.  
> But I’m back, with another chapter that I somehow managed to write so-  
> Enjoy :)))

It was finally sunny again. Crutchie liked the sun, and the way it felt on his skin. He much preferred the sun to rain, because when it rained his leg ached, well, ached more than usual. And the rain reminded him of the refuge.

The bleak grey building still stood there, and now matter how much Crutchie reminded himself that it was closed down, the physical and mental scars still hung on him like a ink stain. A ink stain that kept spreading until it was covering his whole body and it was still spreading and he couldn’t breathe and-

“Charlie?” A soft hand on his shoulder made him jump, until he saw who it was. “You okay?” Ed said. He- she, Charlie corrected himself upon noticing that Ed had her hair down and was wearing her skirt, said, frowning.

Crutchie debated lying to her, but knew he couldn’t get anything past Ed. She knew him too well. “I dunno.” He replied quietly, pushing past the lump in his throat.

Ed cradled her hand on his cheek, her cooling touch keeping him grounded. It was a reminder, a reminder that they were safe now. He was safe with Ed.

Some days it felt like he was drowning. Like he just couldn’t do it anymore. But generally, it was getting better. It felt a bit better at least. At least things were looking up, even if it took a whole year. But they’d gotten there.

Crutchie gave Ed a half-smile, and he didn’t even have to force it, and began selling his papers. It was nice selling with Ed. She was a horrible liar, absolutely horrible, but cracked many jokes about the people that walked past. She even chased off some shoe shiners who started yelling at Crutchie, announcing that she was going to ‘behead them all of they don’t leave us alone.’ 

He felt his heart swell just looking at her, at her smiling at him with flushed cheeks. How did he get so lucky? 

“You finished selling yet Crutch?” And that would be Jack. He flung an arm around Crutchie’s shoulders casually, wearing that usual charismatic smile. Of course, Crutchie knew that most of the grin was fake, a false pretence Jack wore to convince everything else that he was fine. But the times when he actually smiled, that was special. Something real special indeed.

Jacks eyes met Ed’s. “You must be Elizabeth. Crutchie’s girl.” He said. Ed looked confused for a second, but quickly nodded and beamed.

“That’s me! You must be Jack then. Crutchie talks a lot about you.” She held her hand out for Jack to shake. He spit on his hand then shook her hand. Still, she didn’t flinch, or say it was disgusting.

Jack chuckled. “Only good things I hope.”

“I tell her that you snore.” Crutchie deadpanned, wrapping his arms around Ed’s shoulders. She laughed and kissed his cheek softly.

Jack gasped over-dramatically. “I do not!” He held his hand to his chest. “I am mortally wounded.” He cried out.

Crutchie laughed and smiled up at the sunny sky. 

Today was going to be a good day.

Race had a plan. It was stupid, idiotic, dumb-witted, and relied purely on luck and assumptions about the enemy, but it was a plan nonetheless.

Ignore the Rabbit. Just ignore them all. Boom. That was his plan.

In hindsight, there was no chance of it working. Chances were, they’d all die. But curled up on Spot’s chest, who was running his not-broken arm through Race’s blond curls, it seemed like the best plan. Because this? This was good. This was the best that it had ever been. Race wasn’t about to ruin that. 

They’d be fine. Absolutely fine.

If only he could see how horribly wrong he was.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything’s going just fine, until it isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)))

Turns out, it was a good day. For selling at least. Crutchie sold more papers than usual, and did it all with a smile on his face. It was good. 

Beth and Nought were selling out in Manhattan, still weary to cross over to Brooklyn after what happened. Lester sat in the lodging house, thumbing through a well worn copy of some book. Davey would know what book it was. Davey knew a lot.

And Spot and Race. Spot could barely sit up without help, let alone even think about selling. Race refused to leave his side, claiming it was for Spot’s sake rather than his. They all knew that was a lie, but it wouldn’t do any good to say anything about it, so they left Race be, curled up by Spot. Spot slept through most of the day, seemingly exhausted. Crutchie couldn’t blame him. Nearly dying was tiring work. Crutchie had first hand experience.

Anyway, it continued to stay sunny for the whole week. Sunny. It felt like Crutchie was on top of the world. It truly felt wonderful. Maybe everything was finally going to be okay. Maybe they could finally be happy. Crutchie would like that.

“What are you thinking about?” Ed asked, lacing her dainty hands into Crutchie’s dirty blond hair. He instinctively leaned into her touch, feeling as safe as could be.

He shrugged. “Nothing much.” Noting her confused expression, he elaborated, “We’ve come so far. A year. A whole year. And, it’s finally going well. And, I finally, I finally-“ He got a bit choked back, trying to gain control of his shaking voice again. “I finally feel happy.”

Ed kissed him gently, intertwining their fingers. When they pulled away slightly, she smiled hesitantly. “You deserve it.” She whispered. “You deserve to be happy.”

And maybe she was right.

“I’m tired.” Spot said, after yawning. Again. That was twice in the last minute.

Race nearly rolled his eyes fondly. “You’ve slept nearly the whole day. How can you be tired?” He asked, pressing a small kiss to Spot’s cheek. It was a hesitant kiss. He still wasn’t sure how to do this whole relationship thing. Sure, he wasn’t that worried about others finding out, but he was worried about messing this up. About doing something wrong and loosing Spot. And getting hurt. Race was scared to get hurt.

Because it didn’t matter how many punches were thrown his way, he’d bounce right back. He’d be fine. But if someone hurt those around him, his friends? That hurt. And the Rabbit knew that. She knew that hurting others would in turn hurt him. Why she wanted to hurt him, was still a mystery.

A small voice in the back of Race’s mind reminded him that he was supposed to meet up with Skitter and give them money, or else. Or else what?

Race ignored the voice in the back of his head. It would only lead to more trouble. And Race didn’t want more trouble. Trouble was the last thing Race wanted. 

Before he realised it, Spot had fallen asleep on Race’s shoulder. Race traced a gentle finger around Spot’s face, outlining his gestures that made him so- Spot-like. Every nearly invisible freckle that connected like the constellations Mush liked to talk about. He had nice eyelashes.

That moment felt so fragile, like anything out of turn Race did would wreck it. It felt like a red rose, blood red petals scattered all through Race, entwining around them. It was perfect. So amazingly perfect. It was everything Race had dreamed of and more. 

“I love you.” Race whispered, letting his words be carried out.

“I love Spot Conlon.”

“Look at the stars.” Mush whispered in awe, pointing with one arm up at the sky. He and Finch were walking back to the lodging house after a long day of selling. Both their muscles ached, but at least Mush had the stars to distract him. This was their routine, it felt safe and comfortable. Nothing could go wrong if they followed their routine.

Finch grinned and stared up at the sky. “Mind explaining the stars to me?” He already knew as much as he could, thanks to Mush and his non-stop rambling, but always asked Mush this, just so he could see the wide grin on Mush’s face as he talked about the stars one more time. Finch liked making his friends smile.

Mush began pointing out specific stars, spouting out information. Words tumbled out his mouth and he occasionally stammered, but continued talking non-stop as they walked all the way home.

Just as they were only roughly five minutes away from the nuns, there was a rustling noise. Mush glanced around, annoyed that he was interrupted just as he got to his favourite star. “What was that?” He asked hesitantly.

Finch shrugged and glanced around. He wasn’t too worried. It was New York after all. There were odd noises all around them. This wasn’t that unusual.

They continued walking, though Mush stayed silent, unwilling to continue his tangent, no matter how much Finch persisted. It was a shame. The walk home was much worse without any chatter about the stars. Much worse.

But it was about to get worse. 

It happened in a flash. Three guys, much taller and stronger and faster then Finch and Mush could ever hope to be, jumped out and grabbed at them blindly. One of them secured their arms around Mush, who was immediately over-powered. It was three against two, though it felt like a whole swarm of enemies. Voices were yelling and Finch felt far too claustrophobic for out in the open in New York.

“Run!” Mush. Finch focused on Mush’s voice. “Run! Run as fast as you can and get Jack! Get someone!” 

So Finch ran. Ran as fast as he could. And as he ran, screams echoed off the buildings. But Finch couldn’t look back. If he looked back he’d slow down and what good would that do? He had to get someone to help. Someone to help Mush. He used the building sobs in his chest to run faster, faster than he’d ever run before.

The stars looked bleak and pale in amongst the inky black night. Insignificant against those oppressing them. Even if the stars had shone as brightly as they could, it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Nothing was okay. And nor would it every be okay every again.


End file.
